We Can Be Mended
by PansySas
Summary: Conversations had after the battle.
1. Chapter 1

An unsettling hush had descended over the castle. Rubble laid in piles in the middle of the corridors; mountains of stone from the destroyed staircases blocked most entrances, but Harry was pleased to see a narrow path had been cleared leading to the kitchens. He climbed through the portrait hole and was shocked to see a handful of house elves bustling about the half-destroyed kitchen. Pans of steaming soup and broth sat upon magically conjured flames, simmering gently whilst the elves placed copious amounts of bread onto large platters.

Something small bumped into the back of his knees and he looked down to see two elves carrying a large tray of sweets towards the fire places.

"May I?" he gestured to the pastries

The elves looked up and their large eyes grew twice, "of- of course Mr. Potter"

They began to place them onto a large platter, rushing between themselves to fill it to capacity.

Harry took the time to glance around. The kitchen showed the same signs of destruction as the rest of the school. He saw a pile of white cloth peaking out from behind a door, shifting slightly to peer round he saw that they were covering small bodies. More casualties.

The lump in his throat grew larger and he raced back to the front of the kitchen, taking the tray from the waiting elves, returning the bow they bestowed on him, before throwing himself back through the portrait hole.

He made a beeline for the Gryffindor tower where the others had gathered when the great hall became overcrowded with friends and family of the fallen.

The path was eerily quiet, and Harry picked up his pace, not wanting to be alone with his thoughts just yet.

Reaching the entrance, he noticed the large gash in the front of the painting and sparing a thought for where the fat lady had ended up.

Walking through, he saw the huddled mass of red heads by the fire. Hoisting the tray of cakes higher on his arm, he strode over them. He allowed Mrs Weasley to pull him into a hug before placing them down on the table in front. Mrs Weasley began conjuring plates and handing out the food. When it came to George she urged him to try to eat, but stopped when Mr Weasley placed a soft hand on her arm. Her face fell and she sat back in her seat, fresh tears beginning to fall. Harry glanced over at the older man, his own face stained with grief. None matched the look on George's face, white and solemn, with eyes staring passed everyone, focusing on a spot behind everyone's view.

Harry wanted to say something, but what could he say? I'm sorry felt too shallow and anything more than that flew in the face of the huge sacrifice that had been made today. Harry would never be able to repay the debt that been created today.

He looked around the room, searching for his friends. Bill stood and walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Harry," he paused, looking around at the others, "Let's go somewhere else."

"Oh, yeah, do you know where Ron and Hermione went?" His eyes still searching the room, the lump still sitting at the back of his throat.

"They're in the boys dormitory, let's go."

Harry couldn't help but feel like he was being steered away from the others, like his presence may have been too much for them to handle.

Bill began walking towards the spiral staircase, weaving his way through upturned chairs and stacks of destroyed books. They began a slow ascent in silence. When they reached the door to his former dormitory, Bill stood blocking the entrance. Harry braced himself, either through habit or sheer guilt.

"Harry, this is going to be hard for me to say. But I feel it must be said. None of the others are in the right mind right now and you need to know."

Harry's stomach fell, this would be the moment that Bill told him that the family – Harry's only real family – needed space from him. That what had been lost today was too great and they could not handle having a reminder of their loss around them every day.

"Hey, stop that," Harry raised his eyes to meet Bill's, noticing for the first time that a few new scars had been added to his handsome face since the last time they had spoken. "What happened today, it was inevitable. War has casualties, we all knew that when we joined. Fred knew it and he joined anyway. He knew what we were fighting for and he knew that he may have had to pay the ultimate price for it. This war was never about you Harry."

Harry stopped breathing. The words seemed so harsh and unfamiliar from the usually laid back Bill.

"We weren't fighting for the Boy Who Lived. We were fighting for own freedoms. Voldemort would have come for all of us eventually, once the muggleborns and blood traitors were gone, he would have needed new scapegoats for the failings of his great world. There was always going to be this war. And even if you had died today, the war would have continued and new Chosen one would have come along. There is only one person responsible for the deaths today and that's Voldemort. I know that you must feel guilty, and I understand." He took a breath, locking his eyes with Harry's, "I feel guilty too. What if I'd been with Fred or with Remus or with Tonks or with anyone else? Maybe I could have saved them. Maybe I'd be laying with them. At the end of it all, they're just what if's. We can't do anything about it now. We just have to rebuild and move on."

Harry hadn't realised that tears had began to fall down his face until Bill placed a firm hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly. He smiled sadly and walked back down the stairs, leaving Harry facing the door. He could hear hushed voices coming from inside and he wiped a hand across his face before moving towards to the door.


	2. Chapter 2

The boy's dorm was strangely untouched, with only a few books scattered across the wooden floor. Hermione placed her hand on the curtains surrounding Ron's old bed. She thought back to the last time she was here, after Dumbledore's funeral, where Ron held her as she cried. No for the fallen headmaster, but at the realisation at what she would have to do to keep her family safe. He simply held her and hushed her cries, until she fell asleep.

Ron was pacing around the room, trying to look nonchalant, but not quite succeeding. She moved over to him and brushed her hand against him. He grasped it tightly and led her over the chest that sat at the foot of the four-poster bed. When they sat he brought her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Hermione's heart melted, and she laid her head on his shoulder, letting out a shuddering gasp of air.

They sat in silence for minutes or maybe hours. The sky outside began to clear, the clouds outside moving aside for the sun to shine through. Hermione turned her head to look out the window. Plumes of smoke still rose from the ashes outside. She could see people arriving on brooms, flying through the now defunct protection charms. The battle had taken everything from the castle, leaving it as the ruin that the muggles saw it as.

She felt Ron shift beside her, noticing he had wiped tears from his face. He turns and laughs, a short bark,

"You have dirt on your nose." He places a gentle finger on her nose, wiping away the soot.

She smiled at him, "you don't look any better." It was true, they were both covered in soot and dirt, and blood, which she didn't want to think about right now.

They fall back into silence, before Ron stands and moves towards the bed. He lays down, groaning as his aching muscles object to the strain. She doesn't wait for an invitation, she simply climbs in beside him and returns her head to his warm shoulder.

He reaches a tentative arm and places it around her, pulling her close.

"We should probably, ya know, talk."

She was surprised, she thought she would have to broach the subject. She also thought that it would be much later, once the dust had settled, literally and figuratively.

"Yeah. But we don't have to now, not with every-"

He pulled his arm tighter around her, silencing her logic, "let me have this. This is a good talk and we both need a good talk right now."

She pushed her head further into his neck, a silent encouragement.

"I don't know about you, but I've been thinking about this for a while." She didn't need to look up to know he was smirking. She lifted a hand and lightly swatted his stomach, regretting the action when he flinched slightly. She instead laid her hand on his chest, comforted by the beat in his chest.

"When we were in fourth year, before the tournament and Krum and the yule ball, I had a plan." He said almost wistfully. "I was going to ask you to go to Hogsmeade with me – just me. Ginny knew, she was going to distract Harry and ask him to show her round as it was he first time going. Then me and you would go and we'd walk up to the shrieking shack like we did the first time we went and then I'd kiss you."

Shocked at the revelation, Hermione lifted herself onto her elbow, staring at his freckled face. He stared at the space behind her head, almost afraid to see her reaction.

"You planned all of that?"

"Well Fred and George helped me plan it after they found my notes-"

"Notes?"

"Yeah – well I didn't quite have the courage to ask you to your face. So, I wrote some notes and I was going to hide them in that big bag of yours and hope you'd see them. That way if you didn't say anything, I could convince myself that it was because you hadn't found them yet. After the twins found the first few drafts, they insisted on helping. Even roped Charlie into it." A sad smile spread across his face as he remembered the hours spent with his brothers.

"So why didn't you do it?"

"I did." He looked at her now, sheepish.

"No, I would have found them!" Hermione tried to rack her brain, trying to remember seeing anything in her bags all those years ago.

"Well, just after Harry's name got pulled out, I snuck it in. See I figured that with me not speaking to Harry, I wouldn't need Ginny to distract him and it would look more natural. I was being an arse to be fair, but at fourteen it made a lot of sense." He took a deep breath, "but after the first task, while we were all celebrating, I snuck into your bag and took them all out."

"Why? I would have said yes."

"They announced the Yule ball and I figured I could ask you to that. Except I left it too late and Krum got there first."

"I don't understand. You asked Fleur?"

"Yeah, I did," he grimaced at the memory, "Fourteen. Arse. Remember?"

She laughed and laid back down, snuggling in closer to him.

"I waited for you to ask me. Then I heard you'd asked Fleur and I remember feeling like I couldn't be that kind of girl, so when Victor asked me, I said yes." She thought briefly about how idiotic they both had been. It would have just taken one of them to speak up and they could have avoided so much drama.

"Last summer, Ginny kept teasing me, offering to swap rooms with me so I could finally ask you. Though, looking back, that was probably more to do with her wanting to be with Harry." Ron's face screwed up slightly at the thought of his sister and his best friend in the same room, alone.

"Probably." She rose again, leaning close to him, "you could always ask me now."

"Now? I think I made myself very clear earlier on." For the first time in a long time, his mouth curled up into a cheeky side grin, mischief dancing in his eyes.

"Chivalry isnt dead quite yet Ronald." She leaned in closer, matching his grin, keeping her eyes focused on his.

"Well then, Hermione Granger, will you do me the great honour of accompanying me to Hogsmeade. When they rebuild it." He added as an afterthought.

"I would love to."

Their mouths were barely an inch apart when they heard the doorknob turn and the heavy wooden door creaked open. They lurched apart just as Harry walked in, looking bewildered to find them in such a precarious position.

"Er – I can come back later?"

They climbed off the bed and Hermione walked over, pulling Harry towards her. Ron followed suit, the three of them embracing in the middle of the room.

They broke apart and shared watery grins. Ron took Hermione's hand in his and smiled at his best friends, "Plenty of time for that later."


	3. Chapter 3

Ginny watched as Bill and Harry moved towards the staircase. She fought every urge to follow him and instead shifted to sit next to George, laying a hand down on his knee.

"George?" she whispered softly, as not to alarm him. His eyes moved towards hers ever so slightly and then back down to the floor. Ginny's heart broke even further as she watched her brother retreat further into himself. She kept a hand on his knee and moved a touch closer, allowing their shoulders to touch, so he would know she was there.

A few minutes later, Bill returned from the dormitories, nodding once at Ginny and then retaking his seat next to Fleur. The room fell silent, with only the sounds of plates shifting and cups being placed fracturing the atmosphere.

After a while more people began to enter the common room, causing Mrs. Weasley to rise and announce that they should all get some rest. Slowly they all rose, gathering up blankets and robes and moving towards the spiral staircase. As they moved up, they began to branch off, George wandering into the first-year dorms first, the door slamming behind him. Charlie sent the family a forlorn glance before following his younger brother. Bill and Fleur moved into the next dorm, then Percy. As they reached the sixth-years rooms, Ginny stopped and looked to her parents. They were holding each other up, their heads leaning in close to one and other. She contemplated following them to their room of choice, but decided they may need the time.

She walked through the door and saw Harry, Hermione and Ron huddled on the middle bed, their heads hung low. They turned in unison, their faces red with anguish. She felt suddenly very guilty, like an intruder in their grief. The three of them had been through so much together in the last year – the last seven years – that Ginny suddenly didn't know what to do with herself.

Ron stood and walked over to her, pulling her into a tight hug, squeezing the breath out of her, though she was not complaining. He pulled back and placed in hand on her temples and breathed,

"I missed you."

Ginny realised for the first time that this was the first time she had held her brother in a year. Her big brother, who held her hand during her first broom ride; who chased away the gnomes when she was crawling around the garden; who spent his summer break teaching her neat tricks to do before her first year.

"I missed you too." She pulled him back into her embrace, standing on her tiptoes so she would rest her head on his shoulder. She peered over and saw Harry and Hermione looking at them with watery eyes, smiling despite it all.

After the pulled apart, she walked over to the bed and hugged Hermione, whispering thank you for keeping her brother safe. The older girl blushed as they broke apart, muttering that he helped just as much.

Ginny's eyes met Harrys and she smiled, small and sad, but smiling. He was alive. They all were. They were all alive and in this room and for now that would be enough.

Hermione stood and walked over the adjacent bed. She announced that she need rest and kicked her shoes off, pulling the duvet back and climbing under. Ron stared after her with wild eyes, looking between Hermione and the couple on the other bed. Ginny saw him swallow hard before turning to joining Hermione in the bed, roughly pulling the curtains shut around them. She heard the mutterings of a short incantation and then nothing.

Ginny sank onto the bed, letting her weight fall completely. She was overcome with exhaustion, the events of the previous days finally catching up to her.

She felt years older than she should, the events of a war forever ingrained in her young mind.

She cast her eyes over to Harry and felt a short pang of guilt. Whatever she had witnessed paled in comparison to what he had actually suffered.

 _He died._

Regardless of how many times she saw him, felt him, held him, the image of Harry laying in Hagrid's arms, still and pale, as Voldemort pronounced his death, will haunt her forever.

She nearly lost him

 _She did lose him._

 _He died._

She still didn't know how he was alive, still unsure what had saved him, but she was reluctant to ask. They lived in a bubble of quiet at the moment, with grief being the only emotion on anyone's minds. Curiosity would have to wait until morning.

There were no words really, nothing to say or do just yet. Her eyes began to close of their own accord, until she felt the bed dip and felt Harrys eyes fall upon her. She opened her own and looked beside her. He was laying a short foot away from her, his eyes drooping as well, though he seemed to be fighting it.

With an unknown courage, she lifted a hand over to brush a finger across his scar. He shivered at her touch and accepted the invitation, laying his own hand above her hip.

They stayed like this until she couldn't anymore, with Ginny lifting herself across the bed and laying her head above his heart. Harry shifted beneath her, wrapping his arms across her shoulders. She felt a heavy breath leave him, and she shuddered.

There would be time for talking, for crying and laughing and screaming, but right now she was content to feel him breath, to hear him, touch him, comfort him, to know he was there but also for him to know that she was as well.

She needed him to know that this year had not been the end of them, that their distance from each other had only made things burn brighter, that it was necessary evil before they could start their lives.

She lifted her head to tell him so, but his hand tightened on her shoulders, keeping her in place. That was when she felt him breath change and felt the subtle drop of wetness on her head. She decided to stay where she was, to hold him as long as he needed.

She held him tighter, reminding him – and herself – that this was real and not another cruel dream from the last 12 months.

Slowly his breath evened and he shifted slightly underneath her. Her eyes began to close again and this time she didn't resist. Before sleep took her fully, she heard him,

"thank you".


End file.
